


Case Study

by scifantasy



Category: Mina de Malfois
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifantasy/pseuds/scifantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She did, however, pass my request along to some sort of <i>Sanguinity</i> coder, who must have been awfully good..."</p><p>--"Mina de Malfois and the Outburst of Grief"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and (Big Name) Fan Fiction

They sit in her kitchen, one on each side of the table. She has brewed some tea, and they both have a mug--today it's Lapsang Souchong for him, Earl Grey for her, though it's often the reverse. He looks at her with dark eyes, the anger earlier fading to resignation, and likewise her fear and sorrow has all been cried out.

It's been almost two weeks since they saw each other, since he found her in that compromising position. He stormed out then, yelling behind him, words he regrets now.

She, near tears, wanted to respond, but couldn't. She didn't know how she felt.

Now, though, she knows. And he knows. So when he came to her door today, saying "I think it's time we talked," she welcomed him--but as a guest, not as the near-roommate/companion he had been. Though he had his own dorm room, her apartment off-campus was more of a home than it was for almost the past year.

He speaks first, almost a whisper. "You were the first person I ever loved, you know."

"I know," she says, her voice husky.

"I saw you there, and my heart dropped into my guts."

"I would have...I would give anything to turn that back. I never meant that to happen."

"Which part?" he snaps, harsher than he should.

She is silent for a beat. "I deserved that. The fact is, I didn't want you to see us. I hadn't meant it to happen that night--it just sort of did. But...I can't deny how I feel, either. I was going to...I'd wanted to talk to you first, to tell you what I'd discovered, before anything happened. But then..."

"Anything happened," he finishes. She nods.

"I do love you," she says, "but as a friend. Almost a brother. Not..."

"Yeah."

"But I hadn't meant to betray you. I was...well, I was going to break up with you. Then..."

"I know. Well, it's done."

Now her voice is a whisper, and her tone is tinged; her sanity, or at least some of it, rides on the answer to this question. "Do...do you think we can still be friends?"

He takes a deep breath, and nods firmly. She sighs in relief, and for the first time all day--for the first time in two weeks--both of them start to smile.

"After all," he says, suddenly near laughter, "it's not as if it's another guy."

They both laugh then, and cry a little; not in sorrow, but relief, exhaustion, and hope.

* * *

_ FIFTEEN YEARS LATER _

I was three hours deep in hack mode when the IM window came up. I had to stop myself before I responded with a string of Perl (hey, I was doing some scripting; so sue me!), but when I saw who it was, I somehow managed to rein it in. I snagged another piece of cold pizza as I shook off the hack trance, poured another soda, and set to typing.

"Hey there," I sent back.

"Case," she said, alerting me to the tone of the conversation. Understand: I've known all of the Council since the days when RPG had only one meaning--thick books, pencils, paper, Cheetos, Mountain Dew, and lots of dice. I even dated one or two of them, back in the day. The wrong one or two, as it turned out...I would never have guessed which one had the kid, and which ones...sorry, mind's wandering. Still, probably for the best. But it was some seriously fun times...Anyway. Naturally, we all know each other's real names. But officially, HGR subcontracts the coding work on Sanguinity and SO to Neuromancer, Ltd; Henry Dorsett Case (not his real name), CEO.

"Oh," I shot back, "this is official business, is it?"

"It is indeed," she said. I saw the file transfer start, and opened up the result. I whistled under my breath.

"You want all this by when?" Now, of course, it could be done, but I wasn't going to make it sound too easy. The Council, with its own elaborate games of image and perception, is less susceptible to the mystique of the coder than others, but you never make it look as easy as it often is...

"The deadline's on the specs, naturally. You can do it, I take it?"

"My team and I will have to pull some longer hours," I equivocated, already getting in touch with the others, "but yeah, I can get it done. I don't suppose you can tell me what it's all about?"

"Now, Case," came the response, "if I do that, I don't have to pay you your quite exorbitant rates, do I?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I typed, hearing her cadence and voice in that last. "You'll get it done, no questions asked. Dinner next week?"

"If you don't flake out on me again," she wrote, and though I could hear the smile I got defensive.

"It's not my fault half the servers overloaded right during a time of maximum load," I shot. "Just count your lucky stars I'm as good as I claim--the players never felt a hitch. If you want to blame someone, look at your godson. I swear he caused the overload."

"I know, I know. Fine, dinner next week. Chinese?"

"Greek."

"Done and done. If you get this finished."

"Come on," I typed, finishing my pizza and soda and preparing for another marathon hack session, "when have I left you down?"

By the time she answered, I was coding too hard to notice.

\------

Of course, the modifications went live on time, and to spec. What do you take me for?

A few days later, I was wandering through the virtual world, taking notes on improvements and details, when I got a private note. "Meet me at the World Tree? --PrinceC"

I rolled my eyes. The World Tree really exists in Sanguinity Online, but it's a private area...it's the wizards' bar, accessible only to coders, owners, and other Significantly Important People. (Tree, root...you get it, right?) Despite being little Jamie Hammill, son of Eva, "PrinceC" doesn't actually have access to the World Tree...but he's been there a few times, under someone's wing. Guess he wanted to be back.

I sighed and took the quickest route to the Tree--another wizards-only route, namely sinking into the earth, catching hold of a root of the World Tree, and skittering up it. I paused to give Jamie a temporary access pass, and then slid into my usual corner table with a view of the room. To no surprise, the usual crowd was out in force. This place has always resembled the Black Sun--though I've steadfastly refused to code swordfighting--and tonight was about average. The music wasn't altogether to my taste, but I decided not to exercise my veto power and change it.

A few minutes later, I saw Jamie's avatar in the doorway, looking like a military stoplight. I was sure he wasn't wearing that Mountie getup in SO at large, so what the hell?

It hit me a second later. Like any good exclusive club, the World Tree tends to be occupied by the A-listers, who usually sit back and let everything happen around them, and their entourages, who do the actual happening. And the entourages tend to seriously outnumber the celebrities, and be predominantly female. (Hey, I calls 'em like I sees 'em. Though it doesn't hurt that most of the celebs in question lean the appropriate way, whatever genders they happen to be.)

/Pain in the ass/, I thought, as Jamie made a beeline for me. Just what I needed, rumors of my having a meeting with PrinceC. (My name isn't too well known in the larger SO circle, but all the A-listers knew who I was.) If Eva gave me any grief for that, I was going to have to pull out the "who keeps an eye on your kid, again?" saw. I can't stand playing that card...still, I mentally marked it for a forced-choice, just in case.

He reached my table, trailed by two or three of the permanent-entourage set. He murmured some pleasantries to them, and they kindly left. I scowled as he slid into the seat, and gestured to a waitress. I ordered an Irish rocks, and he got the same. Then he turned to me. "Can we hit the privacy field?"

I rolled my eyes, but engaged it. This would protect anybody from eavesdropping, but really. "The next time you want a private meeting with me," I said, "make it private. And warn me."

He had the grace to look sheepish, but got over it. "Did you set up the grief exhibit?" he asked me.

"The what? Oh, that. Sure. You like it?"

He brushed that aside. "Did Mina ask you to set it up?"

"Who?"

"Mina de Malfois. She owns the property you set that up in."

"Oh, does she? No, she didn't ask. I got my orders from On High."

You could see the wheels turning and the steam coming out his ears. "If it was On High, then...but why would she...maybe it's true, what they're saying."

I waved to get his attention, just as the drinks arrived. I took mine and held it up--some forms deserve to be obeyed. "To the demise of our enemies," I said.

"To the demise of our enemies." We clinked glasses and drank.

He held up the glass, watching it reflect. "Any idea how long it'll be before you can actually taste this?"

"You really want a ProctoProd?"

"A what?" He looked stricken. I don't blame him.

"Read the classics, kid. Bethke."

He shook his head. "Anyway. You really don't know who Mina de Malfois is?"

"You know me, I prefer not to get involved with the end users."

"Yeah." He knocked back his drink, and gave me the story. I was grateful this was a textual medium. Jamie's not a bad writer, but his storytelling leaves something to be desired, as I can attest from in-person meetings. Too much time spent with pure writers, not enough time with performers. And a tendency toward purple prose. Well, at least he came by that one honestly.

I was able to read between a few lines here and there--for example, when he mentioned sending her some pictures, I got the initial sense he was crushing on her. "Wait," I said. "You randomly sent her pictures of yourself in costume?"

"Yeah," he said, a bit defensively.

"Kid," I said, ignoring the face he made, "how old is this Mina?"

"Well, if you'd let me finish, she's in University now."

I waved and he kept talking. Things began to come together when he mentioned that Mina was now at St. Scholastica's, and I realized some of what he had been wondering.

I waited for him to finish, and then held up a hand. "And you were wondering who asked me to set up the exhibit, because if it was Mina herself, then obviously she's been moved into the Inner Circle, and if it wasn't, why would someone else ask me to?"

He nodded, and I shook my head, smiling. "Kid, every project I've ever done for your mother and your near-aunts has had an 'ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies' clause. It's actually called that; their lawyer has a weird sense of humor. I think it's a requirement, to work with them. I can only speculate as to her motives, but if I had to guess, I'd say she's trying to butter up this Mina in order to keep her around. Casinos call these people 'whales.' Keep them around, make them happy, you'll rake it in. Fangirls are fickle, and one bad outage could shift the BNFs over to Planet of Orcraft or Neverendingquest. But if Mina has reason to stay--such as a fancy house and the royal treatment--she, and her devoted entourage, stay."

He nodded, unconvinced. Which, I suppose, was fair, as I was lying through my teeth.


	2. A Continuing Study

If you're ever at St. Scholastica's and in need of a quick meal, look for Zorba's. It's perfect for a college eatery: cheap and good, and reasonably fast. Nothing too fancy; gyros, salads, burgers, and I swear they must go through a chicken farm a week.

I walked in, nodded to the guys behind the counter, who nodded back, and got into the thankfully short line. A few minutes later, Judy walked in. Still in full librarian chic mode, I noticed.

She greeted me warmly, I gave as good as I got, and then we were next to order. That accomplished, we found a nice corner table.

"Thank you for the grief exhibit," she said. "It was excellent." She took a sip of her water, which I was hoping she would.

"I'm sure Mina appreciated it."

As Judy coughed I produced napkins and mopped up the table. She gave me a flat look, but with a smirk underneath it. "You were just waiting for me to take a drink, weren't you?"

"Pretty much," I admitted. "You know a full spit-take is ten points. I trust you'll back me up when I report the score?"

She nodded. "I know the rules too."

"Thanks." Our food was called, so I went up to grab the baskets.

As I sat down, Judy had regained her composure. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure," I said, already knowing what was coming.

"I've already talked to Eva and Val, not that they're liable to get in the way, and you know Nancy--"

"Blow on, you crazy zephyr?"

"Exactly. Where did you get that line?"

"Don't ask."

She rolled her eyes. "Anyway. Do me a favor and don't get involved when it comes to Mina?"

"Hey, you know how I feel about the end users. But be careful, Jamie's sniffing around the edges of this one."

She looked nonplussed. "Just what I need."

"I tried to throw him off the scent; no guarantees that it worked, though."

"Well, thanks for that. I have enough trouble as is with Nancy."

"Yeah, is she in town? I heard she was stopping by."

She smiled an answer, and I laughed. "Oh, really. I'm surprised she didn't come by. It's not like the two of you would upset me, of all people."

She shrugged. "I think she's at the Cath. Probably on her second martini by now."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Nancy doesn't drink martinis. She drinks gin in fancy glasses." I shook my head. "Not that you're much better."

She let it go. "Anyway. I don't want any more wild cards in the deck when it comes to Mina if I can help it."

"Ever the Ringmaster," I murmured, and she smirked. "So what's this Mina like, anyway? I got a story out of Jamie, but it's all Rashomon."

"She's brilliant," Judy said. "Absolutely a fantastic writer. She'll be writing novels someday--if she doesn't give up."

"I've heard that before," I said, but she shook her head.

"No, really."

"Fine, fine. I can see why you'd want to help her."

"Well, that's not the only reason..."

"I know," I smiled. "Be careful, it sounds like you may have competition."

Just then we felt the west wind blow in. Well, not quite literally. "Judy!" came a shout from the door. "Case!"

Only Nancy would call me by my work name when I was sharing a dinner with friends. I'm surprised she didn't call Judy "Arc."

Besides, only Nancy would shout our names when we were ten feet away. At full volume. In a crowded restaurant. We stood up as she grabbed a chair, did the usual round of greetings, then she sat down. I smelled gin on her breath, which suggested that yes, Judy was right; but Nancy's tolerance has been a thing of legend for years now. She can handle it.

"How are you, Case? It's been a while."

"Too long by far," I answered truthfully. Nancy's wild, but a lot of fun, and she does know about limits. She just doesn't see a need to stop anywhere before them. She also doesn't like to assume she knows where they are. This, of course, means she usually finds out the hard way. I'd digress further, but "what happens at the con stays at the con," after all.

For all her wildness, Nancy's a good person and a great friend. She was really good to me and Judy after our breakup in college. Well, probably better to Judy, but that's a different story completely.

"So, what brings you to Zorba's?" I asked.

"I just finished happy hour," she said, and Judy and I shared a grin. Noticing this, she turned a shark's smile on Judy. "Young Mina was there," she said.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. Nancy turned to me. "I didn't know you know this story." Judy rolled her eyes.

"I got it the other day," I said. "I'm sure you recognized my signature on the mourning display in SO?" She nodded. "A few days later Jamie started sniffing around about who had commissioned that and why. He gave me her background, and unlike him, I know enough about Judy to fill in the rest."

She smiled. "I don't blame you, Judy," she said. "Mina's a good girl. And a good writer. Not always the sharpest knife, mind you, but only because she doesn't have as twisty a mind as some."

"Probably good for long-term health and sanity," I said, and Nancy nodded eagerly.

"Not much of a tolerance, either. I had to cut her off early. Then again, she didn't seem used to martinis." I opened my mouth, but Nancy knew what was coming and held up a hand. "I know, I know, I'm a philistine. You love me anyway, and you know it."

"True," I allowed.

"I helped her back to her room and made sure she was all right."

"Thank you," Judy said. "Seeing as you put her in that state."

"I did no such...well, yes, I did. It's a learning experience."

"Depends on what lesson she takes away," I put in. "The first time I got stinking drunk, I swore off alcohol the next morning."

"As I recall, you were forsworn by the end of the weekend."

"End of the night, actually," I said, "and I wasn't exactly forsworn. I realized that my oath was inaccurate. I should have sworn off of hangovers. So I did."

"Good trick if you can manage it."

"Still haven't gotten the hang of that one?" Judy asked, probably a bit more snarkily than was deserved. I mean, it's not as if she doesn't join in when we sing "Banned From Argo" in the key of drunk major. No point in Judy and Nancy rehashing one of their old arguments, I thought, and quickly changed the topic.

"The funny thing is, Judy was just asking me to keep out of the way regarding Mina, and I'm pretty sure she's hoping I'll run interference with Jamie if he keeps asking questions."

Judy, the hint of a blush on her cheeks, looked at me expectantly. "Which you will, I take it? Shouldn't be too difficult."

"Glad to," I answered. "Truth be told, I'm starting to get a bit worried about him. I think he could use some more varied experience. One source of influence in childhood can be overwhelming."

They both nodded. "Eva talks a lot about giving him room to become his own man, but..."

"Yeah." None of us wanted to say it, but Jamie needed some older male influence in his life. Besides family and a self-hating slasher, that is. Really, for someone as smart as Jamie is, and as savvy, he makes some really dumb mistakes. Like making friends with a self-hating slasher.

Nancy turned to Judy. "Mina knows about Josh and Jen, by the way. She wanted to know what Rabbit's thinking--if anything. I may have given her a clue there, by the way."

"Oh, fantastic," muttered Judy.

I felt the corners of my mouth turn up. "Judy, I haven't seen you so concerned about the variables to a plan since you were DMing. This is a Xanatos Gambit, isn't it?"

Nancy grinned, and Judy said nothing, which I took for confirmation.

I finished my gyro. "Well, you know I'm willing to help out with whatever you need. Just drop me a note." She nodded gratefully.

"Dessert?" Nancy asked. She had, I noticed, wolfed down her burger.

"Sure. And then, actually, I'm in the mood for a beer. How about you?"

Nancy nodded eagerly; Judy rolled her eyes, but nodded. "Someone has to keep an eye on you two."

"And surely you can manage that, when you end up on the floor declaiming bloody revolution interspersed with recitations of Shakespeare," Nancy laughed.

"I only did that the one time," Judy muttered.

"The revolution, yes," I said, "but the Shakespeare's a recurring theme. At least you know the words. Come on, ice cream calls."

We left Zorba's to the ice cream shop down the street. "So how's Adage?" I asked. Nancy rolled her eyes, and Judy laughed.

"Same as ever."

"That bad, huh?"


	3. Study Material

A few days later, I was coming off of a sixteen-hour nightmare of system administration and emergency repair. I'd been updating some of our blades with new hardware when our datacenter had sudden Issues. I never got the full story out of them, but I caught a rumor about a drunk and disgruntled employee...anyway, I spent far too long handling disasters and I was about ready to commit bloody murder when everything was done.

But since even the brilliant legal team employed by HGR wouldn't let me claim a justification defense, I decided to head to Eva's place--which was near the datacenter anyway--for the evening.

Jamie, who had been aware that something was going on with the servers but not the details--I'd pretty much kept the effect from trickling into the active world--met me at the door. "Wow, you look like hell," he said.

I handed him my jacket and collapsed onto a couch. "I've just spent sixteen hours with my finger in the dyke," I said.

"Huh, I thought you hadn't done that since college. And sixteen hours at your age? Impressive." The smirk in his voice was so clear I could almost taste it.

I admit it, it took me a second. I can only plead abject exhaustion. When it hit me I glared up at him. "Get your mind out of the gutter. And get me something to drink."

Jamie's a smart boy usually; he certainly knows when to shut up and listen to his elders. "You got it. What would you like?" I indicated my exhausted, prone form on the couch and he nodded. "Right. Scotch older than I am on the rocks. Be right back."

He returned moments later, bearing a lowball glass well-proportioned with the Scottish Water of Life and ice, and a wineglass with a Neil Diamond song in it.

I accepted my glass with as much of a salaam as I could achieve the way I was lying, and then gestured at his glass. "You're still underage, what's with the wine?"

"Well, Mom generally doesn't mind my taking a sip or two, if I'm with family...so?" He gave me a pleading look.

I sighed. "Far be it from me to moralize on the evils of alcohol," I mused. He grinned and held up his glass.

"To the demise of our enemies." Clink.

"How is everyone?" I asked. "I'll go and see your mother once I've fortified myself."

"She's busy anyway," Jamie said. "She said you'd be coming by, I should be kind and attentive and a good host, and she'd be down when she could. She's dealing with the alien invasion."

"Oh," I said, and nodded. I wasn't too tired to forget the grand crash of the Space Battle Universes MMO hard a few days prior, and Eva's request that I quietly allow some cross-patching into SO. She was probably figuring out how to best capitalize on the publicity and exposure. Maybe a buyout. I hoped not. Jamie wasn't cleared for any of that, though, so I didn't enlighten him. "In that case...I'm going to lie here until such time as I can consider goals more long-reaching than my next sip of this, so if you want to be a good host, engage me in some conversation. I can handle that even when I'm passed out on the floor."

"So I'm told," he mused. "Well, not a whole lot new has been going on here of late, really. I've been getting into a new fandom, which I'll show you once you're mobile again."

I shook my head. "Don't tell me you actually came at it from the perspective of 'I want a new fandom,' please. If you got into something, talk about it first."

"Sorry," he said, though he didn't sound apologetic. "Anyway, I'll show you later."

"Fine."

"Besides that...not a lot. I'm gearing up for Wands Across soon, you know. The con circuit is good this year."

"Of course."

"You going to WA?"

"I haven't decided," I said. "I'm not sufficiently enmeshed in the relevant mythos to go on those merits. I think I'll stick with the general-purpose cons. Like the Big Show."

"Yeah, makes sense. Well, I'll have some fun for you."

"Not too much," I said archly, "I'm too young to be a grand-uncle."

He flushed a little, which I took as my own back for the "dyke" comment. The wonders of modern private-school education had relieved the need to give Jamie the birds-and-bees speech, thankfully--I had a nasty feeling that task would have fallen to me--but it was still worth it to play Vorkosigan--both Vorkosigans--and remind him of the subtler questions of moral responsibility.

The conversation turned to lighter topics, and eventually I felt sufficiently fortified to go look at Jamie's latest project.

He showed me to his room, and slipped into the bathroom for a moment while I admired the collection of gears and cogs and clockwork whatzits. I rolled my eyes even before he re-emerged, wearing a white lab coat and flight goggles.

"You've gone steampunk," I said.

He smiled. "I found some great designs for steampunk-style monitors and keyboards, and just had to try them. Since then I've just been encountering more and more great stuff..."

"A while ago," I reminisced, "I put together a steampunk costume for a Ren Faire."

He looked at me strangely. "What? There was steampunk in the Renaissance?"

I laughed. "Not exactly. I went as the Victorian time-traveller who traveled back /to/ the Renaissance. Professor Hugo C. Potts, Huge Crack-Pot to his detractors."

He chuckled politely, then gestured to his own computer--still modern, I noticed. "Where'd you put the new monitors?"

"My condo," he replied proudly. I shook my head and let it go. "I was wondering," he said, "if you could show me some of the better examples of steampunk..."

I smiled. "Absolutely." I crossed to his computer and hit the web.

* * *

A few hours later, while Jamie was still absorbing the /Girl Genius/ archives--OK, so technically they're "gaslamp fantasy," I don't care--I wandered back downstairs and ran into Eva. I kissed her hello and she made noise about dinner, which I realized I hadn't eaten.

Over our food, she asked me about Jamie.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look, to be perfectly honest, what you spoke with Judy and Nan about isn't news to me. I realize that I was a large influence on Jamie and that to say the least this isn't necessarily good."

"Nor is it necessarily bad," I felt obliged to point out. "You certainly gave him a moral center."

"Nor is it necessarily bad," she agreed. "Still..."

"Yeah," I said.

"He looks up to you in a way he doesn't to his family. You're a mentor."

"Like it or not," I mused.

"Yes, I know. It's not the job you signed up for. That job you've been doing fine on, by the way."

"Patches for the aliens still working properly?"

"Yeah, they'll do the trick, and no one realizes who set them up. Should make the conversion easier and help to keep the brilliant mystique."

"If we weren't both committed to the mystique, you know, SO would have collapsed. Scary thought."

"Yeah. But about Jamie..."

"Hm?"

"He's getting older, and encountering more and more freedom. I've tried to help him, but I can't always. And..."

"I'll keep an eye on him," I promised, and she relaxed. "Looks like I'm going to Wands Across after all..."

"Thanks."

About then Jamie burst in. "I thought you should know," he said, talking to me and not to his mother. "There's something up with Mina."

I glanced at Eva, and saw her roll her eyes. Good. She was sticking to what Judy had asked of us.

"What's up?" I asked.

"She said she's afraid for her life. Offline problems with Josh Amos."

That got my attention. I looked sideways at Eva and confirmed that she, too, was in on that decision. No surprise, as Josh/Jen was a scholarship kid. But I could see why Mina was worried, if she thought her roommate had bad intent.

"Oh?"

"I told her she could crash at my condo--that's what it's there for, after all, people to crash. But...I'm a bit worried."

"Keep an eye on things, then," I advised, "and if anything else troubles, let me know and I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks," he said, and ran off.

I turned to Eva. "That was interesting."

"You don't know the half of it," she said.

"Oh, there's more?"

She nodded. "Call Judy and let her know...and then I need to tell you the story of Razzberry Martini."


	4. Defying Convention

Once the parameters of my assignment were clear, I started almost immediately. In my expert opinion, what Jamie needed was to get a more removed perspective of fandom. He grew up in a fannish environment, which is great for his openmindedness, but it means he takes it for granted. Instead of being the place he goes to escape the Real World, it's the only world he knows. I'm the last person to say that having your head in the clouds is bad, but Jamie doesn't even know where the ground is. And that's dangerous for anybody.

We only had a few days, and throwing him into the deep end was cruel, so the DMV was out...I ended up simply taking him into town. No bookstores, game stores, or other typical haunts, either, which was as torturous for me as it was for him. Generally, we just people-watched. Get up in the morning, take the subway--I banned cars for the next few days--to somewhere in the city, get some tea or coffee, take a seat outside, and look at people going by. We also made a point of going to typically mundane places--a sports bar, for example, or the local mall. I think Jamie almost had a heart attack when we went wandering through Wal-Mart...

The whole time, I played Real World Enforcer. I hammed it up, smacking down creative impulses far more than if I wanted to accurately represent reality, but I was making a point, after all. After two days of that, I started to see the glimmer of understanding in Jamie's eyes.

OK, so it's not the Spoon Theory. But I think it worked.

He drove to Wands Across in thoughtful silence. Well, except when I slipped in "Rich Fantasy Lives."

We got to the con, and Jamie went into full PrinceC mode...but he seemed to be taking it more seriously than usual. I laughed. For all his congoing activities, he was reacting like a neofan at his first convention. In many ways, he was. It was the same "this is so much better than reality!" look I'd had, years ago, and that I'd seen on many a new congoer since. He'd never had the point of comparison before.

I think I helped him, a little. He had more of an understanding of some fen quirks. Things he'd taken for normal, from lack of comparison, he realized really weren't. Not that he thought worse of them--like the rest of us, he preferred the weird. But understanding that it was considered weird helped him handle it in a way he hadn't before.

And it helped him play it up, too. He had a confidence he'd been lacking--knowing that everybody else is a bit off-kilter too helps you not worry so much about how you look. His flirting had something more to it than just keeping up the image...I think he was really enjoying himself.

Note to self: reinforce the "too young to be a grand-uncle" point. Maybe remind him of the old condom-in-the-wallet bit.

Jamie did try to beg some time away from his appointed chaperone to meet the infamous Mina de Malfois. We compromised on my being a bit outside the door. Not that Mina noticed, of course, what with him present. She looked a little...well, not star-struck exactly. She was clearly relieved that "PrinceC" was just another guy, and not some sort of avatar of perfection. But that itself was enough to get her staring a lot.

Hm. So that was Mina. Older than I'd anticipated, but I could see what Judy saw in her.

Another aspect of my attempts to help Jamie was that I actually told him to go to some panels. Normally, his idea of going to a con is to stand around, look pretty, flirt a lot, hang around the consuite, and go to parties and masquerades. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but he's missing something in not actually going to the panels, if you ask me.

He was reluctant at first, but he started getting into it. By the "Lions Versus Snakes" panel, where he gave some much-needed cachet to the underdog good guys--what is it with so many female fen finding people like that damned Dark Schoolmaster sexy?--he was starting to see the value in being able to talk face-to-face about fannish topics.

Curiously, he didn't spend any money in the dealers' room. I spent my time browsing some of the booksellers' tables, but Jamie seemed to be saving his money for something. I couldn't put my finger on it, at first...but then I remembered the BNF Kisses auction. I pulled out my program and checked the list...and yes, Mina de Malfois was listed. I wondered if she knew she'd volunteered?

Probably not. I saw the hand of the Ringmaster in this one.

Speaking of, I didn't see much of Judy, or Nancy for that matter. The former had apparently ended up de facto chair--no surprise; I bet that as soon as they saw she was booked the concom resolved to talk her into "helping." And it seemed Nancy had been drafted. How much, I had to wonder, did Judy have to promise Nancy to get her to escort that hack Vicksburg around all weekend?

Once the panels were over and the masquarade and then dance were live in all their strobe-light glory, things really began to go wild. I almost wish I could have stopped watching Jamie, because the strobes always drive me nuts, and I'd run into someone I rarely get to see, who stayed far away from the blinking lights. Epileptic seizures, even petit mal, do not a good weekend make...but no, I had a job to do. Thankfully Jamie didn't stay at the dance that long. It didn't get going until almost 11:30, so he stayed through the midnight Time Warp and then headed out.

I stayed far away from the teeming mass of moshing morons. Give me a ballroom and three-four time any day.

The rest of the evening was more fun. The concept of checking IDs still hasn't trickled down into room parties, but I kept an eye on Jamie's intake. I cut him off before the vomiting phase, but after he'd had enough to get a hangover the next day. Some lessons need to be learned...such as drink a lot of water. And eat something. And if you mix your drinks, be careful. And better he learn it in a comparatively safe environment than in at freshman orientation, like most people do.

Jamie also got a lesson in the flip side of fen cutting loose. There wasn't a drunk young woman demanding people lick icing off of her, the way there'd been at a con I attended last year, but there was still a fair share of people who, if I had my druthers, would never darken a con hotel again. The young icing lady had, though, been an exception in one respect...she was female. Most of the people I'd wish would just go the hell away were male.

Jamie looked downright horrified at some of that behavior. Though he was pretty pickled by then, it offended his sense of dignity about as much as it did mine, I take it. At one point, he was sitting on a couch--he didn't really trust his legs at that point--and saw this one boor harrassing a very well-corseted young lady. "I wish I could do something," he slurred slightly, "but I can't even get up. Help?"

"Your usual method wouldn't go over well anyway," I said, standing up. "Here's what you do." I ingratiated myself into the conversation, made sure to keep myself as between the other two as possible, and finally the jackass left of his own accord. Granted, she could have taken care of herself just fine, but sometimes I feel the need to do something to redeem my gender, too.

"What is it with that guy?" Jamie asked after both jackass and lady had departed--separately, thank the powers that be. I'd returned to the couch, where Jamie was sitting, watching the fun and games abound as best he could given his inebriation.

I chased my chips with the last of my Nuclear Fizz and shrugged. "A lot of people at cons aren't exactly social butterflies."

"But he wasn't one of those, was he? I mean, it's not like he was stammering or unable to look at her. He was looking at her too much, if you ask me."

"There's more than one way to be a social maladjust. You can be too loud, too. Obnoxious and not realizing how you appear. Also, I was next to him. His breath could be classified as a chemical weapon capable of causing intoxication at short range. How he was standing upright I'll never know."

"Hm." He lapsed into silence...or possibly temporary unconsciousness. I prodded him back to awareness, and suggested it was time for him to out. He could walk, if he leaned on me, so returning to our hotel room and he was able to at least wash up and change before he hit the bed with a thud.

As I washed up for bed myself, a thought occurred to me. Hadn't someone--Eva, Judy, I couldn't remember--mentioned that Josh Amos, or whoever she was, would be at Wands Across? I seemed to recall getting a warning that I should be ready to call in Nancy and Judy, but only if everything went completely to hell. But I hadn't seen hide nor hair of her. Well, it made my job easier. Presumably one of the other snares they'd set had borne results, so they didn't need their backup plan.

The following morning, naturally, began with Jamie opening his eyes, moaning in pain from the light, then moaning in further pain from the noise of his moaning.

"It may go down easy," I said to him, "but coming back up, not so much."

He groaned agreement, quietly, and rolled over. I laughed silently and went to get him some water.

And then there was the auction. Jamie's hangover had cleared up reasonably quickly, with the application of sufficient dihydrogen monoxide--ah, the benefits of youth--so he was functional to attend. Once again, I took up my quiet, Simon Illyan-like pose against a wall and watched.

I had to laugh when Mina's name provoked a flurry of murmurs. I saw Judy make a carefully calculated bid, and it seemed she might have it...but then, the figure Jamie had pointed out to me as Warr1or threw in his bid, and Prince Charming apparently decided he had to save his innocent Mina from the rough, crude Warr1or. If my eyes don't deceive me, though, that innocent wasn't entirely sure she /wanted/ to be saved...

The entire insane bidding round had me thinking of Rogers and Hammerstein. And I don't even like /Oklahoma/. I couldn't decide, though, which of them was Curly and which was Jud...at least it all worked out without anybody falling on his own knife. And a nice chunk of change ended up donated to charity, too.

The silence on the way back from the con was equally quiet and thoughtful, but somehow I didn't think the grand scheme of fandom was the topic which had Jamie's attention.


	5. Politics and Pros

A day or so after the con, I was just sitting down to my computer in the morning, mug of tea in hand, when I saw Nancy's email. Three lines in, I stopped, finished the tea first, then turned back to the screen.

Good thing I did, too. because I suspect I'd have needed a new keyboard by the end otherwise. I was tempted to actually call her, but I settled for a long and detailed reply, emphasizing that no, I was sure Judy didn't blame her for the whole charlie-foxtrot. Judy has more sense than that. It was probably just stress from being roped into Ringmastering again, topped by this sibling revelry situation blowing up in her face. I also told her that she should find me when she's next nearby--virtually or actually.

Things calmed down a bit after that. Eva, with the rest of the Council's support, or at least proxy, approved the Space Battles Universes merger, and it was announced to some fanfare that HGR had worked out an agreement with the other publishers. All subscribed SBU accounts would be authorized for various perks, including credit for pre-bought SBU months, rebates and discounts on SO, and various other ways of balancing the scales. The financial accountants made grumbling noises, but our goodwill accountant assured Eva that it would pay off. The "independently-developed" patching for the merge would be officially licensed and improved with the full support of the original developer--which, thankfully, meant I got to finally give my deliberately-shoddy code a proper edit job. That got appreciation from some of the blogs, for "Sanguinity Online's continual commitment to Web 2.0 methodology"--I swear, the next time I hear "Web 2.0" I'm going to punch someone--"and the blurring of the line between user and creator. SO takes UGC to new heights, while still providing traditional structure for the less interactive users."

Thankfully, we wouldn't have to absorb the SFnal setting of SBU, just the characters and a translation of skills. I was in meetings with the Council, and the programming leads from SBU, for a week figuring out what the best options were. Eventually we settled on creating a new race in SO. Someone, I don't know who, penned some fast backstory about a wormhole jump to hell which ended up crash-landing. Weak, but I was sure the Council could make it work. And I swear, the accent wasn't my fault...

At some point, I was making my usual rounds in SO when I got a message from Jamie. "Care for another World Tree meeting? This one not so private?"

Translation: Mind if I see and be seen as we chat? I appreciated the warning this time. I was feeling better about him in general, ever since Wands Across. Now that I knew that he knew the difference between the image of fandom and actual fandom, I didn't mind so much when he boosted his image, because it actually flowed from what was rapidly becoming honest fannishness. I slipped into place in the Tree and sent him a pass.

Interestingly, he didn't show up in that military getup this time. He wandered through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging kisses, much the same way he had in the convention lobby. By the time he got to my table there were two or three people in tow. He performed some introductions, thankfully only referring to me as "Case." I don't like my relationship to the Council being public knowledge. Though "PrinceC" managed to make it a perfect case of "if you don't know who he is, you're obviously not that important." As a result, I got some seriously squeeing fangirls who had no idea who they were squeeing over.

One name stopped me--"Ciyerra of Tyana, artist and part-time ghost." I couldn't place it at first, but something sounded familiar. I murmured greetings and, once they went on their socially-climbing way, turned to Jamie. "How do I know that Ciyerra person?"

"She's the one with the art exhibit," he sighed.

Oh-ho, there it was. "The ball-jointed doll thing?"

He grimaced. "That's the one. You've seen it, then?"

I shrugged. "She booked space in a gallery. I had to make sure everything was up to code. Pun intended."

"What did you think?" he asked as a waitress arrived. We ordered our drinks and she left.

"Obviously too much imagination, and not nearly enough facts. I was there, after all, and trust me, I'd have remembered if that took place. You're not Harlan Ellison, after all," I said, and he nodded vigorously. "You're not even Appin Dungannon."

"Who?" he asked, momentarily sidetracked.

I shook my head. "Skip it."

"Anyway. I have to admit to being a little...disturbed about what I saw." The drinks arrived. Toast, clink, sip.

"A reputation as a player isn't good?" I asked as innocently as I could muster, but I couldn't hold it and started chuckling. "I know, I know, it's a bit much to deal with. Especially the shots of you from that threesome with Gravina. I wonder where she got those? Looked pretty accurate."

He sputtered. "You've seen--who told you about--who else knows--forget it, I don't want to know."

"Thus lies wisdom. I'll investigate that angle, if you want, find out how Miss Of Tyana got those pictures. But anyway."

"Yeah," he said, distantly. "What bothers me more than my own reputation is Mina's. Besides that she's practically been given an entire scarlet alphabet, have you heard there have been entire fan sermons about the relative thinness of Mina's model to herself? And fic to match?"

"No, I didn't, and frankly I'd rather not, thank you," I said with a mock glower. "On the other hand, even I have to admit that the doll Mina was a bit..."

"Idealized?"

"That's one word for it. If I wanted a woman with the body of a ten-year-old boy, I'd date a ten-year-old boy. Are you sure this Ciyerra person is actually female? You'd think a woman wouldn't believe the highest standard of female attractiveness was a baseball bat with two basketballs attached."

He laughed at that. "That could have been her point."

"Badly made, then," I said. Suddenly a thought occurred to me. "How'd she get a pass to the Tree?"

"On someone's arm, I guess," he said. "The exhibit got her a certain amount of cachet."

"Boosting her own social status by bad-mouthing you and Mina?"

"I know. Despicable, isn't it?"

"Actually, that part doesn't surprise me at all."

He sighed. "No, me neither."

"Friendship is a fickle thing in fandom," I said. "Worse now than the unwired days, but even then..."

"Social climbers," he spat. "You'd think that fandom would have less of that. People are in fandom because they love it, not to gain points." He looked at my carefully neutral face for a few beats, and then had the decency to blush. "OK, fine. Maybe I understand her more than I'd like to admit. But I'm learning."

"You are at that," I said, and turned back to my drink.

"Why'd you get into it?" he asked suddenly.

I looked up. "Huh?"

"Why'd you get into fandom? The culture, I mean. Not the sources."

I shrugged. "Someone to talk to. Everything else comes later; in the end, fandom is just people to connect with."

He looked pensive and sipped his drink.

"You want my advice on this art gallery?" I finally asked.

"...yeah," he said. I understood his reluctance...he'd never been shy about asking me for advice when he needed it, so it wasn't out of pride. More, it was wondering if there was anybody who was actually qualified to advise. It's not as if I'd ever experienced this kind of thing.

"Don't bring it up, first of all. Don't ignore it, but there's no need to draw attention to yourself." Well, more attention.

"That's a given," he said, and I smiled.

"You are learning. Second, if it gets brought up, don't leap to anybody's defense, yours or Mina's. If you're asked about them, admire the technical aspect, maybe comment a little on the construction. Treat it as any other artwork."

"And if--or when--I get asked about the content?" He wasn't upset, just worried.

"'Well, Ciyerra has an active imagination.' If they persist, asking you specifically if something is fact or fiction, 'A gentleman never tells.'" I smirked at him--he really could pull off the aristocratic gentleman even better than I could. Then again, I find my chivalry in my actions.

"That's it?" He looked surprised that the solution was so simple.

"That's it."

"Fine, that's me," he said, relieved but by no means satisfied. "What about Mina?"

Oof. There was the tricky part. He felt partially responsible for Mina's branding. "Something along the lines of how Mina is a beautiful woman, and a lady of class and culture, online and off. That should take care of both halves at once. You can't change everybody's mind. What you can do is be better than your enemies."

"You're probably right. Thanks." He stood up. "I should go. Thanks for the conversation. You going to be around?"

"I'll probably be by for dinner some time this week," I said. "Say hi to your mom for me. And remind me to give you _A Civil Campaign_ one of these days. You need the honor-versus-reputation speech."

"Will do. Later."


	6. Head Case

"You want me to do  _what_?" I read the spec once more to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I wasn't. "Have you been reading Tales of MU again?"

She didn't react to my swipe, which was just as well. "You have the spec. How long?"

"I'm meeting with my core team later today," I responded. "I'll farm this out properly, get an estimate. Figure maybe a week or two."

"Good."

"Look, I know there's the 'ask me no questions' clause, but you really need to throw me a bone here. What gives?"

"Let's just say," she said, "that I have my reasons. It will do the fans a lot of good."

I shook my head. "You're fanbating." Before you ask, that wasn't a typo. "And come to think of it, this is casturbating, too."

I swore I could see a half-smirk when she responded, "As someone has been known to say, sore wa himitsu desu."

Well, when one of the Council stoops to quoting Xellos, I know I'm not getting any more information. I dropped the subject. I was already not looking forward to the ribbing I'd get from my team, though.

* * *

Later that day, I had my periodic meeting with the entire SO core coding team. We all talk constantly, of course, in person or via phone, email and IM, but I try to have a conversation with the heads of all the various coding departments, en masse, every week or two. We plan out new development in large-scale and find out who needs what resources.

Of course, the team is too scattered to do it in person. Lillian and Carla, the heads of 3D Graphics and Worldbuilding respectively, were there in the flesh, but the rest of the team was voices on the phone.

"OK, everybody," I said, "let's get started. Graphics?"

"No news," responded the 2D Graphics lead.

By mutual agreement the 2D graphics lead always spoke first, and 3D followed, so Lillian spoke up. "I've got some tweaks to make for the design of the male angels, and one of the plugin uplifts is in the launch tube."

Lillian Graves was a real piece of work. Dressed as usual in a long, flowing skirt set off with handmade jewelry, she had gone into 3D animation as a way of bringing her beloved fantasy critters to life. Her skills were among the best in the business, and I was lucky to have her aboard, even if she did strike everybody as a hippie. Gee, I wonder why.

"Oh?" I asked. "Which one?"

"The bell-bottom pants."

"Why are we uplifting that one again?" asked Zee, the head of the in-game economic system. He was exasperated as usual; I don't blame him, since he has to balance about five different systems besides the normal money. Tithing points, sympathy points...I can never remember them all. Zee--and yes, that's his real first name--was a real find, a business major with an engineer's soul. I'd known him for years. It took me a long, long time to talk him into signing on with HGR, and if it hadn't been for the mortgage industry going to hell, it might not have worked. "I mean, yeah, it's been popular within a small group, but..."

"There's been a rash of complaints that we're too serious," answered the 2D lead. "That we spend all our time on big drama without the simpler stuff. A few uplifts of comedic plugins from users, like the bell-bottoms, would help to stave it off."

"Fine," said Zee. "No other problems in my department, either."

Carla, the head of worldbuilding, spoke next. She looked flushed as usual, probably the result of swooning over all the accents. "Alien integration is pretty much done," she said, in her own pretty Canadian accent. She was a find of Arc's, the results of the old-girl network of the Frozen North, and had been one of HGR's first hires. She was in town to catch up with all of us, which is why she was able to sit in on the meeting in person. "The last bits of backstory and retrocanon should be done this week. I'm going to need some help from the combat team in figuring out the next release of updated powers and abilities, and making sure they're balanced."

"You got it," said the Combat team lead. "No other news on that front; things are looking pretty balanced for now. My team's actually getting bored."

"Same here," said Bumper, the Tools lead. I could hear the sounds of bustle behind him, and rolled my eyes. Try as he might to convince us otherwise, we all knew he did most of his work at his neighborhood Internet cafe/brothel. Sometimes, I just roll my eyes at Southeast Asia. It didn't help that Bumper's voice, not to mention appearance, suggested he was too young for such a venue, even discounting American prudishness. But he was a brilliant coder, so we let those little peccadilloes slide.

Next up was Game Physics. JC was a wiseass of the first degree, but he'd been a friend of mine since before I even knew the Council. And, well, he _was_  an excellent coder. Even if he did think he was the programming reincarnation of Hunter S. Thompson. I'd managed to keep him from exploring the "code while drunk, debug while sober" method so far...seeing  him in person, which I did every once in a while, helped. He stammered in person. Not so now, as he chimed in with "nothing new" over the phone, his voice always surprising me with its reediness.

Finally, Xany, from Audio. Thankfully awake by virtue of time zones--despite living in Asia, halfway around the world, she kept night hours, meaning she was up at the same time as we were--Xany had been one of my finds, strictly on the basis of a strong resume. Some on the Council had been slightly worried at her age, or lack thereof, but I knew a kindred spirit when I saw one. And her work had brought the naysayers around. "All quiet," she said.

I nodded. "OK, there's something else. There's a feature implement request from On High." There were a few groans and a chuckle or two.

"Which one was it?" asked Carla.

"I'm not at liberty to say," I said. That got a low whistle of surprise from someone, I don't know who. The programming heads have an interesting relationship with the Council; they're all cleared to know that there's a collective guiding force behind HGR, but beyond that it's whatever they can piece together with the occasional scraps I throw them. They can get some idea of how important a job is by how much detail I can give them about the motivating force. And stonewalling was code for "high priority, serious business."

"It's a bit of an odd one," I went on. "They want to...oh, screw the euphemisms, they want the vampire and angel NPCs to be exhibitionists."

Stunned silence. And Lillian and Carla were looking at me like I'd gone nuts.

Finally, Carla ventured, "...what?"

I sighed. "Changes to the NPC Vamp and Seraph characters are requested, regarding their interaction with each other. Much more sexual. Oh, and same-sex at that."

"This one has to be Nancy," Lillian ventured. "I mean, she's the one who asked for those overhauls for the Aristasians--"

"--I know, I know," I said quickly. "No need to go through the history right now. You're not going to get confirmation or denial out of me, nor are you going to get insight into the reasoning." Mostly because I didn't know that either, but I wasn't about to tell my team. "I figure this will need work from the 3D Graphics team, Game Physics, and Audio."

"Yeah, sounds right," JC said.

"They want sound too?" asked Xany, a bit doubtfully.

"Yeah. I'll have the full change request sent along to you as soon as we're done. Nothing else?"

Silence.

"I love a fast meeting. Talk to you later." I punched the button on the speakerphone and turned to Lillian and Carla, who were still staring at me. I ignored it. "Food?"

"Sure."

"You won't get anything out of me, you know," I warned.

"We never do," Lillian smirked. "But you're the one with the friends on the Council. So you get to be their whipping boy."

Carla, a funny smile on her lips, added, "And besides, you might let something slip."

"Don't bet on it."

* * *

 

It was all done within two weeks, plenty of time to go live. As usual, I popped in to check it out. It was all very...not tasteful exactly, but certainly not as bad as it could have been. Lillian had really toed a fine line there. I made a mental note to go easy on her for the next little while.

A note hit me. Surprise surprise, it was Jamie. No inveigling a pass to the World Tree this time, though: "Your work? I know the rules, but really--you have to tell me something. I'll be around."

I sought him out, and found him doing...I'm not really sure, honestly. He just seemed to be around. I don't claim to understand it. Anyway. I found him, and waved. "Can't tell you a thing. Orders."

I could see the gears turning, but really, there wasn't anything else I could say. Besides, I could almost guarantee that he would come up with something wrong. I'd managed to wheedle a bit of information out of the Council, about the whys and wherefores, and I was still shaking my head. Who wrote their material these days, the bastard love child of Robert Jordan and George R. R. Martin?

"So what's new with you? Haven't seen much from you since that ball-jointed doll thing." He seemed calmer about that lately, anyway. I'd, as promised, given him the speech about honor and reputation, and the appropriate advice. And, fandom being what it was, he wasn't getting much in the way of dirty looks. Well, outside the other type, which he usually got.

"Not a whole lot. Some trouble from Warr1or."

"That's the self-hating slasher?"

He smirked. "Officially, he's completely heterosexual; merely disgusted at the idea of male homosexual relationships, especially between partners in military endeavors. To hear him tell it, anyway."

"Take it from this Kinsey 0, kid--no one who thinks that much about slash, even under the guise of loathing it, is completely heterosexual. Anger is fear--too much emotional investment. If you aren't even a little homosexual, you just don't care. It slides off."

"So do a lot of things," he said, but he couldn't quite get the joke formed.

I gave him a look. "You're reaching."

He nodded shortly. "At any rate. He booted me from the editorial board for 'supporting immoral behavior through my choice of friends.'"

I smirked. "Who do you suppose he means?"

He rolled his eyes. "Could be anybody--Mom, Mom's friends, including you by the way, Mina, Josh Amos..." I got the sense that he knew more about what this was than he was willing to tell me. Well, let him keep his secrets.

"Why do you put up with him?" I asked, suddenly. "And this whole 'military reincarnation' bit--what gives? I mean, you've had your off moments, but..."

"I'm smarter than that?" he asked, a trifle stung, I felt.

"Well..."

He shrugged. "How do you rebel against parents who let you get away with just about anything? She already lets me drink, she and you have both made it clear that if I father any kids I'm not going to duck responsibility for them but other than that my sex life is none of your business. Hell, if I started smoking pot, what do you suppose my mother would do?"

I thought about it. "She'd probably help you maximize the potential of any brownies. Remove the mystique, and the thrill evaporates."

"Yeah. And I know better than to do any actually harmful drugs. So all the normal routes are closed. The only way to actually rebel is to do something stupid, fannish, and wanky."

I regarded him for a moment. Finally, I shook my head. "You know why I don't like heart-to-heart talks online?"

"Why?" he asked.

"I can never tell if the person I'm talking to is full of it or not."

He laughed. "I know what you mean. What do you think?"

I shrugged. "It hangs together, but a good set of lies would do that too."

"Just one more layer to the onion of enigma that is Prince Charming," he said with a Scottish brogue, and bowed.

I rolled my eyes.


	7. Flaring Up

The fallout from the exhibitionism had, predictably, fallen and gone out. The work that Lillian, JC and Xany had put in was stellar, if you liked that sort of thing, but as was typical of fandom, outrage and amusement burned hot and fast and then settled down, I hoped the Council was still watching, though; for all we knew, one day this would pop up again.

Still, I reflected, sitting down to my computer with my morning tea, at least things were quiet.

A message popped up from Jamie. "Hey, how's things?"

"Pretty good," I shot back. "What about you? Still rebelling?"

"Always," and I could see the smirking, "but...wanted to keep you in the loop about something." He flipped me a link, and I opened it rather idly.

"Note for future," I typed a few minutes later. "Hot tea plus computer plus spit-take is a dangerous equation. Let me go change my shirt."

Back at the computer, freshly attired, I saw that he'd had a good laugh at my expense. "Sorry," he said, "I should have warned you."

"Yeah, well. So what's this about?"

"You can't tell?"

In fact, I could tell. I recognized the person wrapped around Mina. But it was the name that concerned me. Besides, Jamie wasn't cleared for some of this, so it was best to find out what he knew and go from there. "Humor me."

"Well," he said, "Razzberry Martini's making a triumphant return." I could hear the sarcasm, which was a relief. "She used to be involved in fandom, and then she gafiated for a while."

"Nice use of language," I interrupted. "Reading some of what I sent you?"

"Oh yeah. It's fantastic. Anyway. Razz is coming back, and it looks like she got Mina on board. Which is interesting, because Mina and she were old enemies."

"You don't think the pictures are legit, do you? I mean, everybody has Photoshop nowadays."

"If they're fakes, they're good ones, and that's enough for the rumor mills."

I looked at the pictures again. He was right about that. I had my doubts about a couple of shots of the two of them tangled together, but I'd bet money that Mina was real--this wasn't a case of pasting on a head (or is that hed? I can never be sure). So, how exactly had Josh, or Jen, or Razz, or whoever she, or he, wanted to be this week, gotten Mina to pose for her?

Some questions, I reasoned, aren't necessarily worth exploring at this juncture. Judy probably felt like she was spinning plates in the circus, trying to handle all the craziness with Mina and company. And every time she had it all spinning smoothly, someone came along and threw a monkey wrench.

Maybe it was a good idea to stop in on her, see if I couldn't help her balance it all. If nothing else, she could probably use some company.

* * *

 

I got to the library just in time for an exodus of graduate students. I recognized the one male, Seldom, from previous stops. He seemed relieved to see me, which I have to admit worried me more than a bit. "Sir!" he called out--I'd never given him a name--and the gaggle of grads came to a non-unison halt.

"Oh, it's the Silver Squad," I said, with a smirk. "What's going on?"

"Thank God you're here," he said, having apparently been declared spokesman for the group, given how the rest were nodding and trying to put in asides, instead of taking the thread of the narrative. "First, Ms. Silverman's pirate friend, Nancy is it? She showed up, and then Mina came in--did you know Mina de Malfois was a student here? Wait, maybe you don't know who she is. She's...forget it, it's not important. Anyway--Mina came in, and then she left, and Nancy and Silverman were giving each other looks that could melt steel..."

I sighed and held up a hand. "Smart of you to get out of there."

"We know a good exit when we see one." Nods all around.

"I tell you what," I said, pulling out a card and scribbling on the back. "Why don't you head on over to the Cath. You all look like you could use a drink or five, and maybe some greasy pub food to boot."

Seldom's eyes brightened, and the rest of them started murmuring, but he shook his head. "We're all poor graduate students, remember?"

I rolled my eyes. "I remember. Here." I handed him the card. "Give that to the bartender, and get as smashed as you like." The murmuring reached a fever pitch.

Seldom clutched the card like it was more valuable than money--which, after a fashion, it was--and the gaggle started moving again, making noises of profuse thanks.

"You're welcome. Oh, one thing?" I called back. They held up and waited expectantly. I gestured toward the offices on the second floor. "What happens in the library...?"

"Stays in the library," Seldom said, and they all nodded.

"Good. Off with you, then." They made tracks.

I slipped inside the library and got up to Judy's office. Even through the door I could hear Nancy's muffled shouting, and some quiet answering from Judy. It wasn't until I heard Valerie's name that things began to snap into focus. Oh, for crying out loud, was that what this was about? They'd both take it as a blessing if I interrupted, and it would probably be a public service and on my permanent record for good karma.

"And they say people like us get involved in fantasy lives because our real lives are boring," I said. Both of them turned to me, angry and relieved at the same time. Nancy reacted first, pulling me into a hug. I returned it and gave one to Judy, as well.

"How much did you hear?" Judy asked. She was settling down, getting her masks and faces back in place. Nancy was doing the same.

"That's not what you want to know," I said. "You don't care how much I heard--you want to know how much your pride of researchers heard."

"Pride?" said Nancy, pushing the light banter a bit too far, but who cared. "Nah. Maybe a destruction."

"At least a shrewdness," Judy said, getting into the game.

"Long as it's not a murder," I said, "and speaking of that, I don't think they heard anything too bad. And I sent them off to the Cath to run up my tab, on the promise that they don't spread stories, so I'll be billing you for emergency repairs to the Masquerade."

They both breathed a sigh of relief at that. "Thanks," said Nancy. She turned to Judy. "Are we good?"

Judy nodded shortly. I saw Nancy wince, and I didn't blame her--Judy had pulled the same thing on me when we were together. It meant "yes, for now, but we will be returning to this topic later." Judy can compartmentalize like nobody's business.

Time to change the topic, fast. "I originally came by because of those pictures of Mina. Jamie linked me to them."

They both rolled their eyes. "I don't know what she was thinking," Nancy said.

"I have an idea," Judy replied, but refused to speculate further. "Besides, she's onto something new."

"Another one?" I asked. "This girl goes through more crises of public image in a week than some people in their entire lives."

"Yeah, well," said Nancy, "she's got one of those personalities. Plus, she has a reputation to maintain...whatever has the Internet in a whirl this week, she feels obligated to weigh in on. This one might get her burned, though..."


	8. Royal Adviser

Thankfully, Nancy and Judy seemed to be doing better in the days following their little lovers' quarrel. I knew things were pretty well patched when Nancy called me to ask what kind of wine Judy liked. I told her to talk to Eva--wine is not my strong suit. But I'm getting ahead of myself, that didn't happen for a couple of days.

In the meantime, I, finally, had been able to get back to my paying job. The entire Council had been united on a request for a change--and despite what you may think, this happens more often than not, not least because the Council are pretty free with proxy votes. Besides, everybody draws a solid demarcation between extracurricular activities and keeping _Sanguinity_  popular. I don't exactly know why they wanted the vampires in SO to have the optional ability to sparkle, but when I asked Eva, she rolled her eyes and told me I didn't want to know, this wasn't "ask me no questions," it was just not something I'd care about. She's honest about that kind of thing, so I let it drop.

I was running a test, taking a stroll through SO with Lillian--this was solidly a 3D Graphics implementation; she was leading, I was trying to notice problems--when I noticed a familiar face walking towards me. Lillian seemed to recognize him, but then, she probably would. I gave introductions, screen names only, and told Lillian it looked good, and she should lock it down and schedule a deployment with the other division heads; and it looked like this young man had something to talk to me about, see you later. She took the hint and scrammed.

"What's that about?" he asked as she left.

"New feature implementation," I said. "Nothing's secret about this one, though."

"Oh, is that why she had a disco ball thing going? Wait..."

I shrugged. "Whatever you're thinking, it's probably right, in this case. This was just a normal, no-hidden-agenda request. I don't know why, probably some reference I'm not familiar with. I'm kind of impressed you know what a disco ball is, though."

He rolled his eyes. "They're not going to make the human characters clumsy, are they?"

I shrugged again. "Not that I heard, but anyway, that's already doable. So you get the reference?"

"Yeah--and if you don't," he said with a half-smirk, "count your blessings."

"I usually do." I gestured downwards with a questioning look, but he shook his head.

"For this one I think it would be a bad idea to be in the Tree, actually. But a drink might be nice. Somewhere quiet."

We made our way to one of the taverns on the dockside. It was perfect: loud and raucous, but with secluded booths. I threw up a modified privacy screen, a customized one which would cut down the noise so we could hear each other, and signaled for drinks. No Irish whiskey this time, just beer.

We toasted, and drank, and I levelled him with a glance. "So what's on your mind? You look down."

He sighed and shot me a link. I opened it up, to find a journal post from that self-hating slasher friend of his, Warr1or. "The Cult Of The Prince," the title read.

"Heh. Sounds like someone's been watching  _Utena_ , badly," I said.

"Just...read it."

I did. It was actually pretty harsh on Jamie specifically. He was the Prince in question, it seemed. Judging by the timing, and some of the writing, that kiss auction hurt. Well, them's the breaks, aren't they?

But then I came across what had to be the part that had Jamie depressed.

"He follows idiotic, asinine fads, and yet, seems to walk free of criticism, no one calling him on his ridiculous affectations," I quoted to Jamie. "He grew up with every privilege, every advantage. If rumors are to be true, he is the son of the owner of  _Sanguinity Online_ itself. Still, ordinary, hard-pressed fans, fans who work their fingers to the bone to scrape together the money to afford monthly fees, embrace him, and exalt him as their paragon."

He winced. "Should I be letting it bother me?"

"What are you asking me for, here? To tell you what to think?"

He looked into his mug. "Would you be able to answer?"

"Not really," I said, and he nodded. "I could tell you how I dealt with this issue, but I really wouldn't take my example as a model. It was a disaster." He blinked at this confession--minor, but I don't talk about my own history with him, so it was more than he was used to--and I pressed on. "But whether it's true or not, and whether or not it's bothering you, I kind of like that you're thinking about it. You've come a long way, you know."

He brightened at this. "You think so?"

"Sure. Now, I should get going. If there's anything I can help you with, let me know."

He nodded, and I logged off.

* * *

 

As far as I could see, things were quieter after that. The sparkly vampire mod generated some interesting responses, mostly of the "what idiot would want her vampire character to sparkle?" variety. That being politics, and not technical, I felt free to ignore it completely.

As far as I could tell, the other issue at the moment, again politics, was this fannish lawsuit. Jamie filled me in on the details, but I still wasn't all that interested. I'd once harbored interest in going to law school, back in college, but Judy talked me out of it. Besides, in a way, I was fighting the good fight, just more subtly. And I donate. But since I'd thrown myself back into computers with a will, I really didn't have to follow the court reportage.

Still, it was enough that the day after Nancy asked for wine recommendations, the phone call from Judy made sense. "Did you know about Nancy's other income stream?"

"You mean half-cent transactions from Sanguinity Online accounts aren't enough?"

"No--what?"

"Just making sure you're still thinking straight."

"Not now, Case," she said briskly. "I'm in a bit of shock. I'll recover."

"OK, so what's this about?" I asked. "Nancy, I take it."

"She came by here last night."

"With a bottle of wine," I added, as innocently as I could, and I could feel the glare over the phone. and the blush behind it. "But if this is some secret of Nancy's, should you be telling me?"

"Well, I have to tell  _someone_ ," she said, "and you were the one I could get her to agree to."

"Yeah, sounds about right. So?"

"You know that "Tortured Tutor" series?"

"The one with the lawsuit? What's she doing now, running book on the verdict?"

"No...but don't suggest she start, for this or any other lawsuits. It turns out, Nancy would be in a unique position to fix the game, this time around."

The penny dropped. "You're not telling me..."

"That our dear pirate is the plaintiff? Yes, indeed."

I couldn't help it--I burst out laughing. I could hear Judy, sternly, telling me that this was serious, and I should calm down, and what's so funny, anyway, and then she gave in to the inevitable and started giggling like I hadn't heard since we were drunken college students.

"Thanks," she said five minutes later, when both of us had stopped reenacting the Jones Laughing Record. "I needed that."

"I'll say," I said.

"So?"

"Well, seems to me you're in the unique position of actually having some direct influence, for once. No Xanatos Gambits necessary."

"I suppose you're right," she said. "This is almost a new experience for me."

"Enjoy," I said, and I hung up. There was work to be done.


	9. Head, Shoulders, Eyes, and Ears

Only a few people ever get to see behind the mask Judy puts up. She carefully selects who gets to see her. And even with her friends, the ones who get to see behind the mask, she almost always tries to be upbeat.

I asked her about that, once. She told me that she didn't want to burden her friends, didn't want to put whatever problems she had on other people. I called that ridiculous; that's pretty much the definition of "friend," I said. But it didn't matter. She doesn't like even her closest friends to see her sad.

So when Judy showed up unexpectedly on my doorstep, near tears, I knew this had to be a bad one.

I brought her in and sat her down, then grabbed supplies from the freezer and the liquor cabinet. Judy doesn't like to admit it, but she's as susceptible to the healing powers of ice cream as the next person.

I got the story out of her in drips, sobs, and the occasional "I really did not need to know that." Oh. Nancy was gone. Here we go again. Hold on tight, everyone, time for the freefall...

Nancy was right about one thing: Judy's as straight-arrow as they come. Well, not literally. But still, she's definitely the settling-down type. Problem is, the person she wants to settle down with has a near-paralyzing fear of commitment which leaves her no choice but to run, very fast and very far, whenever it starts going that way.

I swear, the two of them have been on a sinusoidal wave for fifteen years now. Like the Great Maker said: "We meet, renew acquaintances, talk about old times, you ask about my aunt, I ask about your brother, we lie about not missing each other and we end up in bed together. And then you leave."

There really wasn't a whole lot I could do for her, and she knew that. All that could be done was to keep her from falling too hard, and help her get up again.

She crashed at my place. Not that I'd have let her leave, once we'd gone from the ice cream to the alcohol. I think we had roughly the same volume of each, actually...

* * *

 

When morning broke, with a crashing noise I _think_  was just in my own head, I rolled off of my couch and roused Judy from my bed. I went through my morning routine (email, newsfeeds, exercise, shower, webcomics) as she went through hers, whatever it was.

My eyebrows went up at step 1, today. Well. Looks like my little insurance policy was already reaping rewards...

Then, since we had the time, I headed kitchenward. I'm not a chef, by any means, but I can make decent eggs.

Judy showed up, dressed for work, as the eggs were coming out of the pan. She'd brought a spare change of clothes before she came by last night. I made a note that if this was going to be a regular occurrence, we should readopt the Emergency Clothes Stash protocol. _That's a throwback to the good old days._

"I think I'll tag along to work today," I told her, sliding her a plate, and she froze for a moment.

"Do you think I need minding?"

I snorted. "Even if I did--which I don't--I wouldn't dare say so. No, I just think it'll be an interesting day." She accepted this, as well as could be expected, and we headed for the campus.

When we arrived, we met a quite disturbing sight: a fan-in. We exchanged an eye-roll and cut a path through to her office. As she went inside, I looked around for, and found, Seldom, and jerked my head to a quieter corner.

We went to the section on the Golden Age. The crowd wouldn't know Heinlein if he walked up to them and began to declaim his views on the military and fascism; right now this was the least interesting part of the entire archive.

"Was that the kind of thing you had in mind?" he asked.

"You did perfectly. Thanks, kid."

"Any time--well, any time you can pay the piper." He held out his hand.

I sighed, pulled another card out of my pocket, and scribbled on the back. "This will be good for one night for you and two others."

"Pretty generous," he said, taking the card from me and turning it over and over in his hands.

"It's not like there's a formal pay scale for this," I said. "I'm playing it by ear. You know the rules, though--mention this to anybody, especially Silverman, Nancy, or Mina, and this goes poof."

"Understood. I can keep a secret, you know. One question, though?"

"Sure."

"So...who are you, anyway?"

I chuckled. "You haven't figured that out?"

He shrugged. "root@wintermute.org wasn't exactly informative."

"Sorry, no hints."

He nodded, gave me a little salute, and headed back to the crowd. He got back just as Judy's Mina arrived up the stairs. I found a quiet corner where I could keep an eye on as many things as possible, pulled out my laptop, and spent the day working on some coding projects. And keeping an eye on everything, as best I could.

Thankfully, the vampire people in the lobby didn't need to leave escorted by the cops. They eventually made their own way out.

Once they were gone, I didn't see any need to stick around. I swung by Judy's office to take my leave.

"Thanks," she said. "I really appreciate what you did for me."

"Don't mention it. That was relatively tame. You remember the last breakup JC had? She dumped him at the con? We found him drunk out of his mind, completely out of his head, belting out a Placebo song in the key of R Demented."

She laughed. "Yes, I remember. You had to miss out on some panels for that one, as I recall."

"And keep him away from the computers."

"Point taken."

I bowed my way out and headed home.

\------

Late that night, when I was just starting to wonder what time I should sack out, I heard a knock on my door.

I opened it, and there was Judy again. Not crying this time, not exactly. More...bewildered, maybe? I wasn't sure. Difficult to read. Probably difficult to feel.

"Judy? What's going on?" I always ask that question, even when I shouldn't.

She told me.

"Oh."

I thought about things for a few seconds.

"Fuck."

She nodded.

"Come in," I said, "I'm too sober for this right now."


	10. Intersections in Real Life

I wish I could say that things settled down. They didn't, of course.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that I particularly minded what did happen. But just once, I'd like to be able to say "everything settled down, and nothing more happened." Mostly, I think, for the novelty value.

Judy, on a tip from Mina de Malfois, had gone on a long-distance trip. I'm not sure why. I'm not sure she knew why. I'm not sure it was a good idea, and neither was she. About the only thing either of us was sure about was that she needed to go.

Meanwhile, Zee was pulling extra shifts to sort out the mess of the  _Sanguinity Online_  economy. We'd talked about a few publicity stunts--a flying gryphon to the Tree to ask for a bailout, that kind of thing--but he'd finally put his foot down and told people to back off and let him work. Everybody was giving him leeway and a certain amount of respect right now, since the "economic stimulus" ideas that had gotten us into trouble in the first place had been passed over his strenuous objections. "Next time," he was heard to tell anybody who'll listen, "before coming up with economic plans, talk to the damn economist!" I'd gently tease him with the typical jokes--"six if one went to Harvard," the  _West Wing_ joke, that kind of thing--but yeah, they were listening now.

A few days later, Eva invited me along to a family dinner. The prospect of somebody else paying for a meal and  _not_  having it go on the tally board was kind of appealing, so I said yes.

Jamie had been coming along nicely. His pride had been bruised by Warr1or's rant, but he'd recovered, it seemed, ego intact. He even was able to summon up some pity for the man, a remarkably mature and astute emotion.

Beyond that, he'd finally finished up with the McCrumb, so we had an interesting discussion about her virtues and vices. But it had stimulated Jamie's interest in some of the topics under discussion. Thankfully, St. Scholastica's is still one of the world's greatest non-Internet sources for fandom-related media, even from the First Fandom days; I suspected that if a copy of "Ah! Sweet Idiocy!" could be found anywhere, it would be somewhere in Judy's pride and joy.

After dinner, Eva turned to Jamie. "You're going back to your condo?" He nodded, and she shrugged. To me, she said, "it's on the way back, so we'll go there first."

But as it turned out, the condo was where both of us would end the trip. As we arrived, we noticed a familiar figure standing near the entrance. "What's going on?" Eva asked. She didn't recognize him, it seemed. No surprise; she'd been at something more of a remove from that fracas.

"Nothing to worry about," Jamie said, and opened his car door. I made a split-second decision and followed suit. "Thanks for dinner, Eva," I said, giving her a brief hug. "I'll get out here, and get back to my place on my own." I gave her a Look, one she quickly interpreted as "no time now, I'll explain later," and she nodded.

As we got close, Warr1or--who I swear looked as if he'd been crying--started to see it was Jamie. "PrinceC," he said, and I blinked to hear his tone. Apprehensive, I would say. Hopeful, fearful, and not a little bit desperate.

"Help."

* * *

 

We got inside and set the scene. Jamie pulled out a mug and started coffee, and I found a tea bag for myself. Earl Grey. Gift from his mother, I bet.

Honestly, my instant reaction to Warr1or's face would have been a large amount of bourbon whiskey, but this was still an underage minor's condo. He had some alcohol on hand, but not what the right image required, and besides, we wanted him to stay together enough to talk at least. So caffeine it was.

As the coffeemaker started burbling, the three of us sat at a table, roughly evenly spaced out.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Jamie opened.

"First," Warr1or said, glaring at me, "who is this? You look familiar."

"Fair enough," I said, "introductions first. Call me Case." I watched Jamie's face as I said that, and sure enough, he was taken aback. He looked a question at me, and I nodded marginally, enough to tell him I knew what I was doing. I didn't see whether Warr1or recognized the name or put it all together, but then, I'm not as used to reading him as I am Jamie, and besides, he was out of it. Maybe it would click later, but I'd deal with that when it came up.

"Where have I seen you before?" Warr1or demanded.

Time to play it careful. Officially, I didn't know who he was. "I think I recognize you from  _Wands Across_ ," I said. "Weren't you bidding at--"

"The auction," he finished. "Now I remember."

"That's it. I'm an old family friend of...PrinceC." Whoops. Too used to thinking of him as Jamie. I hoped he didn't notice my slip there. Again, though, no sign. "And you are?"

He straightened a little. Clearly he had his pride, even as disturbed as he was. "I am the Warr1or," he answered, and I had the sudden urge to answer "This is SPARTA!" I resisted valiantly.

"All right," Jamie cut in, "now that we're all friends, what brings you here?"

The kettle whistled, and the coffeepot burbled, so I went into the other room and poured. The upshot was, I listened from the other room as Warr1or told the whole story. He wound down with "and it's all gone. The commentfic. The members are still with us, and we can rebuild, but...it's a disaster."

I placed the coffee in front of Warr1or, who began drinking immediately. No surprise he took it black. I wonder if he actually  _enjoyed_  it that way, or was as much a slave to imagery as the rest of us. For all his faults, and self-delusions, he was actually less obsessed with image and appearance than most other fannish types. As I sipped my tea and pondered the mystery of the cowboy, I noticed Jamie giving me a sidelong glance.

Finally I sighed. "All right. For the record? No, and please don't insult me like that again."

Warr1or looked up from his mug and blinked at me. "What?"

"I'm a coder," I answered, "and an occasional white-hat for hire. PrinceC here has been trying to come up with a polite way of asking me whether I had anything to do with your present difficulties, and I figured I'd cut through the bull."

I placed both of my hands on the table and stared Jamie, then Warr1or, in the eyes. "I had nothing to do with the deletion of your archive. I wouldn't do that, as a matter of principle." It was the truth, too. No matter what I thought of Warr1or's He-Man Women Haters Club of fanfic, the appropriate response to stupidity like that was not to cross moral--or even legal, depending on how it happened--boundaries.

I turned to Jamie. "Can you say the same?"

He did, with the same posture. I looked carefully for signs of deception, and I didn't see them. Warr1or didn't seem to either.

So. I knew I was innocent, and I was fairly confident--which was not to be confused with sure--that Jamie was too. I started running down the mental list of suspects. Not that this had to be someone I knew, but just in case. Judy? No way. Nancy was a possibility, but this wasn't really the pirate style she preferred--it was simply wanton destruction of ideas. Nancy would have defaced the whole archive, sure, but I really don't think she could have brought herself to delete it. Eva? That would be getting too involved. Valerie likewise.

Mina de Malfois? I considered it for a second before discarding it. Not because she wouldn't do it--though I didn't think that was likely; she's even more enamored of the glory of ideas than Nancy--but because she probably couldn't. Decent writer, but hacking is just a bit above her skill level.

...Mina's multi-named, multi-gendered roommate?

I realized that Warr1or and Jamie were still talking. Making plans to work to bring the archive back, I think. I tuned back in and found an appropriate entrance. "Gentlemen." They turned to look at me. "Normally my computer skills run at a price, but if you'd like--"

"This is a holy crusade!" Warr1or began. Jamie, thankfully, cut him off.

"Warr1or." He subsided. Jamie turned to me. "At present I think we're going to investigate this on our own. If we need anything, I know how to get in touch with you."

I nodded. "Good luck to you, then. There's more coffee if you decide this is going to run you a while." I finished my tea and put the mug in the sink before heading out.

As I walked back to the metro station, I thought about things. Would Warr1or put "Case," "coder," and "friend of PrinceC" together? Well, I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. Would they get the archive back? Probably, but I resolved to poke around and see if I could quietly make some headway on my own. Who deleted the archive, and was there anything more to it than the indignation of its existence? Another thing to investigate independently.

I shook off the questions and picked up my pace. The metro system wasn't too far away, but it did close eventually. And I had some emails to send.

Hm. Fourteen-odd hours' time difference...I'd be catching them just as they were getting out of bed. How many beds, I couldn't say.


	11. Drunken Distortedly

"We should talk."

As much as I have been known to complain about it, Nancy's no-nonsense approach has its advantages. Whereas Judy would have probably used two intermediaries, an assumed name, and a carrier pigeon to get me to talk to her privately, Nancy saw nothing wrong with appearing across my table at Burrito Bongo, nearly giving me a heart attack.

Not that I was going to give her the satisfaction of noticing. If I  _had_  had the heart attack, I'd have blamed it on the burrito, which I finished off and licked my fingers before nodding. "I suppose we do."

"But not here. I don't understand why you eat here anyway."

"Cheap Mexican food requires no explanation." I bussed my tray and grabbed my jacket as we headed out.

"The restaurant is named 'Burrito Bongo.' It's about as authentically Mexican as the Frito Bandito."

"Less," I corrected her with a smirk.

"I've been to Mexico. So have you."

"And if I could pop over to Mexico for lunch, I would."

"Liar. You  _could_  pop over to Mexico for lunch, if you really wanted to."

"True enough. And yet I don't. Wonder what that says about me. Cath and Chris?"

"Where else?"

* * *

 

One scene change later, she and I were sitting across a table. Luckily, neither of us recognized anybody. Not that it was that likely, but it would have been awkward if, say, Judy took Seldom, Mina, and the rest of the Silver Squad out for a congratulatory meal.

Both of us drank the first drink in relative silence, broken only by the toast. Once we had that past us, well, in us, we were ready to talk.

"You sent her after me." No need for her to specify which "her," of course.

"Strictly speaking, I didn't. You sent that letter to Mina, who told her, and she made the decision on her own."

"She told me she talked to you about it."

"She did, and I gave her my blessing, not that she'd have needed it. Sort of like Perchik and Hodel. 'On the other hand, on the other hand, tradition, fine, sure, go ahead.'"

She smirked, which was all that reference deserved, but persisted. "She told you what happened?"

"When she got back," I confirmed. "'Not enough,' indeed. Eat your heart out, Shaenon Garrity."

"Right."

The second round arrived, and we drank.

"What should I do?" Her voice had a nasty tremor in it, one I recognized immediately. Last time I'd heard a question like that...

"Hey," she asked, "what's funny?"

I hadn't been able to keep the smile entirely off my face, clearly. "Oh, just...the last time someone asked me a question with that much sanity riding on it,  _I_  was the one who'd just had a breakup with a certain Canadian."

Thankfully, that worked. The dam broke in a controlled fashion, a mixture of laughing and crying that lasted a few minutes before she pulled herself back together.

"Was I as bad as that?"

"You sure sounded like you were riding the raggedy edge."

"Maybe I was. Why does this hurt so much more?"

I shrugged and signaled for a third round and the check. "You deal with someone as long as we all have, you invest part of yourself in the other, even if you don't make it sexual. When you  _do_..."

She sighed. "You're right, of course."

"I usually am."

"So, drawing on your personal experience with such matters, what  _do_  you think I should do?"

I shook my head. "That's where I can't help you. My breakup was a whole different caliber. We knew where we wanted to stand afterward. You two don't."

"And what, you don't stay friends with your other significant others?"

I recognized the distraction tactic for what it was, but what the hell. I couldn't give her advice that would help; the least I could do was occupy her forebrain while her subconscious Dealt With Things. Speaking of, the third round arrived. We toasted, and I picked up the thread of conversation. "Even in the cases where I have stayed friends, I didn't have fifteen-plus years of baggage."

"And you've had a few crazies, too. Remember Angie?"

"You just found her crazy because she thought I was stepping out with you and/or Judy."

"Case, that's the textbook definition."

"Yeah, probably. Done with that drink?"

"I think so."

I pulled out my wallet as Nancy went for her purse. "Come on," I said, "there's ice cream waiting for you back at my place."

"I suppose it is traditional."

"And you're drunk enough that you can let your guard down to enjoy it."

"That, too."


	12. Winds of Change

When the average person is up and humming to him- or herself first thing in the morning, we all know what that implies. With Judy, of course, things aren't that simple. So when we met for breakfast at Zorba's and she had a self-satisfied smile, I figured that things had gone, as they say, "just as planned."

"Something went right," I observed. She nodded.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get everybody lined up for something like that? When it all comes together, I earn my day of smug."

"Bring you the finest muffins and bagels in all the land?"

"Something like that."

"So, what _was_ the big something that went right this time?"

"Mina."

"I should have guessed."

She nodded. "It has been taking up a remarkable amount of my time and energy these past few months."

"So what happened?"

"I think I managed to defuse her and the whole Josh Amos/Jen situation."

"Simultaneously?" I joked. Then it hit me. "Wait a second..."

She smirked at me. "Light dawns over Marblehead."

I just shook my head. Look, I'll be the first to admit that I don't think in straight lines, if there's a corkscrewy path. But Judy...makes my head hurt.

Whatever. I put it out of my mind as our orders were called. When I was back, she had clearly moved on.

"What's with Jamie?"

Oh, that was why she called me.

"Worried about him?"

"He has been spending his time of late in...questionable company."

"Yes. Me, you, Nancy, and his mother."

She had to laugh a little, but persisted. "That Warr1or character."

"Intent counts for a lot," was all I would say. "He means well. I don't think he really knows what he wants, or what he is, but..."

"He means well."

"It's the best I can give you. I'm meeting Jamie for lunch, actually, so we'll see."

She nodded and we turned to lighter topics.

Once she left, I faced nothing but my, admittedly slightly morbid, thoughts.

Things were starting to turn into a bona-fide Brandon Avalanche. Everything was shifting, the center wasn't holding in a way even G'Kar would be horrified by, and I was the witness, and when I captured it on film...

I fiercely clamped down on my reference-generating brain for a few minutes. I needed the quiet.

I'd spent a long time working with the Inner Circle. References aside, I was the stabilizing figure; and more than once I'd reflected that my being the sane stable one boded ill for everybody.

But one of the points of consistency we'd always known was the Nancy/Judy sine wave. That was gone. Things were changing for good this time.

Maybe it was time I changed with them?

Dark thoughts like that filled my morning. I theoretically got some work done, but I couldn't even tell you what language I was writing in, let alone what I'd done, when it was time for lunch. I was meeting Jamie at a restaurant he liked.

No surprise, I got there first. I took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink while I waited for him to arrive.

He walked in humming to himself.


	13. Tornado of Change

"You're going to do what?" I signaled for another drink.

"It's actually not as difficult as it sounds," Jamie said, sounding altogether too earnest and not a little naive.

"Hold that thought," I said, as the whisky arrived. One shot later, I gestured. "OK. Give me the details."

"Well, after the success we had in restoring the archive--"

"We?"

He backpedaled. "No, no. Warr1or isn't involved in this at all. But this started when he and I were working on the archive."

"Fine. So you want to springboard that success into running a small press?"

"Well, yes. I mean, look at the tools available these days, for free. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that typesetting a book isn't exactly the Herculean effort it once was."

"I think I misstepped in telling you about Eric Raymond and the TeX manual."

He waved that off. "And then, it's not as if you need to sell to brick-and-mortar bookstores anymore. I mean, we could do the whole thing POD--or we could do small runs in advance and just long-tail it." He started to go into more detail, but I stopped him.

"You've obviously spent more time than I'd expected thinking about this before committing to it." He looked pleased for a second, then he processed the "I'd expected" part and looked put out. I ignored both of them. "Where are you getting the startup capital?"

He looked embarrassed for a second, which was enough time for me to know what was coming. "Mom. But I'm going to pay her back, as soon as I can."

"Yeah, I can't say I'm too surprised. Well, I've heard worse ideas. Just as long as you don't turn into another PublishAmerica. If you do, believe me, I will personally put you out of business."

He nodded, taking the threat seriously. Good. "But the reason I brought this up to you was--can I borrow a financial expert?"

Ah-hah. So that was the game, was it? "You want Zee to help you with the financial wrangling?"

He nodded again. "I figure he might be more willing to do it than some professional I hired, and he'd work for shares and swallow the risk better than someone who didn't know fanac very well."

That's when it clicked. "When I gave you _A Civil Campaign_  to read, I expected you to pay more attention to Aral and Miles than to Mark and Enrique, you know." He laughed. I told him I'd talk to Zee on his behalf, but I couldn't make promises.

Lunch wound down, and with it, some of my dark thoughts from earlier. I began to realize that I'd been thinking about this all wrong. It was generational. Of course. Things would change, and things would stay the same. I'd been looking too close up. Zooming out, things were substantially saner.

Well, no. Zooming out, things were just as insane, which was the point. Fandom is repeating. No, better: fandom is fractal.

Jamie took his leave, and I headed back to my place. I'd no sooner booted up and launched programs than I got virtually the same IM from both Judy and Nancy. I couldn't help but laugh when they relayed me the latest Mina de Malfois news, especially in light of my thoughts of the day.

A little later, though, Judy was more frantic, but managed to sort herself out completely. I didn't really pay attention, but she managed to work the whole thing out by sending IMs to me. She opened with "We have a problem," described it, outlined the situation, described the best countermeasures, chose one, and implemented it, ending with a "Thanks." That's when I bothered to point out I hadn't said word one, and had in fact been reading the whole time.

"Someone new?" she asked.

"New to me, anyway. But old enough that the first book's in reprints but the second one isn't, and the third one's about a year old. I had to go used to get the second one."

"Don't you just hate that," she sympathized. "At any rate, thanks anyway--I needed a functional wall to bounce off of."

"Always," I said, and I meant it. She could tell.

"Out of your funk, then?"

"Was it that obvious?"

"Only to me and maybe Nancy, I think," she said. Probably true, at that. "What was that about, anyway?"

"Just a moment of future shock, I guess--looking ahead and seeing things all collapsing."

"What broke you out of it?"

"Everything is circular. New things are building up too. My perspective was off."

"Rare, for you," she said.

"I'm entitled."

"So what's next, anyway?"

I thought about it. Finally I replied, "I don't know, but I'm eager to find out."


	14. Hirings and Firings

"You work for a living," Jamie IM'd me one day.

"I do?"

"I mean, sort of. You certainly worked, past tense."

"Oh. I get it. Happy First of May to you too. I always preferred the Coulton take on it."

"Yeah, yeah." He proceeded to summarize for me the latest goings-on with Mina. Judy was out of town, so I guess he had taken up the mantle of my information system. Whether or not I wanted it.

"Ah," I said, when he finished. "And you're wondering what category I fall into."

"Well..."

"Not that it would affect you, but...well, I vividly recall a conversation among some of my college friends. Not your family, other friends of mine. Two of them were griping about the loans they would have to pay back, and they were also mock-insulting a third for having enough scholarships that he didn't have to."

"What were you doing?"

"Sitting in the corner and not contributing to the discussion." I remembered that well. I'd always grown up knowing my family was comfortable, but I ended up having to revise my estimate to "well off" when I went off to college and got a wider perspective.

"At the same time," I continued, "my parents weren't about to support me doing nothing with my life. Which was just as well, 'cause I wasn't about to. Yeah, I worked. At this point I probably could spend the rest of my life not working...but I'd get very, very bored."

"Right. I guess someone in my position has that as the best option. Speaking, by the way, of work and money?"

"Zee said he'd get in touch with you when he'd made his decision, or if he had questions. For what it's worth, he seemed to think it would be an interesting opportunity."

"That's probably the best I can hope for at this point."

"Yeah."

He signed off.

I wondered how much Jamie had been asking about me and how much he'd been asking about himself. He was taking out a loan at favorable rates to start up his business, but at the same time, it was very clearly a _loan_ , not a gift. The more I thought about his business life, the more the comparison with Mark Vorkosigan became apparent. Good thing book publishing is less wriggly than butter bugs.

In the meantime, Seldom had been coming by and asking for help. Seems his position at the library was cut back--I don't know if he was outright fired, or just reduced in hours--and he was looking to supplement his income. And/or keep his steady food-and-drinks stream going. I didn't know what I could do with him. I had him on my personal payroll as an informant, and it was hardly my fault he was no longer in a position to inform.

Still, I'd talk to him, see if I could find some work for him to do, or if I knew a friend who needed help with something. Least I could do.


	15. A Cycle Has No End

Everything settled down, and nothing more happened.

Nope, I can't do it. I'm lying at best, and besides, I've reconsidered. I think that if that actually ever happened, I'd be bored out of my mind.

That said, things were quieter for a few days. I really had forgotten what you could accomplish when you didn't have distractions. Well, sort of. After some consideration, and discussion with Judy, Nancy, Eva, Val, and several other friends and coworkers, I'd agreed to hire Seldom as a personal assistant and record-keeper. This was even coming out of my personal budget, not professional.

We'd preliminarily set up a protocol for cabining the really sensitive information from him, and I'd asked Judy's lawyer to set up a pretty wicked NDA, which he told me he'd get to me as soon as I was done. Seldom bore it all in good grace. When he heard that I'd been in one fandom or another as long as Judy and company, but had never had anybody really organize the results of a standard geek pack-rat tendency in all that time, he got a gleam in his eye.

I emphasized that this was a temporary gig, just so that he could continue his work towards his degree, and he nodded.

In addition to reorganizing practically everything I owned into a system that made sense, Seldom was a very good personal assistant. He even started keeping up with what I was reading and watching, so he could let me know when the next book, or DVD, or season, or whatever it was came out. This came as something of a relief, as I was starting to think I'd need to write an artificial intelligence to do that for me. (Or try, at least. I have incredible self-confidence, but even I don't think I can do something like that off the cuff.)

But in the meantime, with everybody handling their own crises, I was diving back into my day job.  _Sanguinity Online_  was running smoothly these days, and recently, the change requests were slowing down; pretty soon now, I figured I'd be able to step back from the day-to-day and go off to do my own projects, at least for a while.

I had to decide who to hand the reins over to in the meantime, though. I was sorting through candidates, primarily the division heads, when Seldom found me.

"So, do I get my answer now?"

I looked up. "You really haven't figured it out yet?"

He shrugged. "I thought I'd come up with it at some point, but nothing rings any bells."

"Oh, right," I said. "You actually dealt with my real name, not my pseudonym. Is it still a pseudonym if it's more information-loaded than my legal name? Hm." I pulled a book from a shelf and lobbed it to him. "Go off and read. I'll see you in three hours."

He was starting in on "Chiba City Blues" even before he walked out the door. I finished up my work, and decided to put Carla in charge of day-to-day operations on  _Sanguinity Online_  for now.

I was just starting to get into hack mode on what might well have been the next big thing when three hours ran out. Sure enough, Seldom was storming back, talking a mile a minute. He had it all figured out. More than I'd expected, even. He had the obvious part--my identity as Case and therefore the CEO of Neuromancer, Ltd.--but he'd even figured out who at least one of the Council had to be.

"Silverman?!" he was shouting.

"You're surprised?"

"But--but--I always thought of her as a particularly terrifying archivist, nothing else."

"You need to read more Spider."

"Who?"

"Robinson. Come to think of it, Jerusalem too, but for this one, Robinson. Librarians are the secret masters of the universe, because they control information."

"...yeah," he said, dazed. I don't blame him. When the scales fall from your eyes, they can leave you blinking in the brightness for a while.

The day over, Seldom left to ponder the new information, and I reminded him that he was under strict orders not to talk outside of school. He hadn't signed the NDA yet, but we had preliminary deals and oral contracts. He nodded. I figured he wouldn't tell--the enjoyment of being one of the secret keepers would hold his tongue. Not to mention, I was now his employer, and he needed to keep his job. Plus I paid better than the library had.

That's when the call from Jamie had come in. He'd just finished his grand road trip adventure with that Warr1or character and Judy's Mina, and he had come back "a changed man." Seems he'd seen something disturbing--I didn't ask, he didn't tell, and we're all happier for it--and had sworn off of his latest fandom-of-choice. He was just letting me know, for posterity's sake.

I started a stopwatch timer on my computer as soon as he said it.

Two hours, thirty-seven minutes, and fifty-three seconds later, I clicked the timer off. Jamie's second call arrived, and with it, a plea for help.

"I'm getting into a new fandom," he was saying, "and I wanted to get your help. You were good to me with explaining the basics of steampunk, getting me interested in the topic itself, so I was wondering what you knew about this one."

The more things change...

One sorted out fandom butterfly later--complete with some gentle teasing/encouragement about that friend of his--I was just about to close up for the night when I got another call. Judy.

"What's new?" I asked her.

"Not a lot," she said in the voice that said "plenty, as usual, but nothing you need to worry about." Judy knows where my circle of concern ends. "You heard from Jamie?" she continued.

"Already recovered and on to a new fandom," I said. "I've agreed to give him pointers."

"Kids these days. Were we ever so fickle?"

"Is it fickle, or just the result of speciation? When you and I started things, there was a lot less available to us."

"True enough," she said. "I heard what you did for Seldom, by the way. Thanks."

"I don't know how long it will last, you know."

"Of course," she said, but the subtext said "nice try." Which is fair enough, I suppose. We'll see. "I hear you pulled the trigger on the big secrets."

"I just gave him parts he could have figured out on his own. Especially after I made him my eyes-and-ears."

"He was your source?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "I'm amazed he kept it from me this long."

"Free food and drinks at the Cath was worth the secrecy."

"I'll just bet. Anyway," she continued, "I was wondering if you're coming along to the get-together for next year's scholarship kids."

"Hadn't planned on it. Want me to?"

"Yes," she said, which surprised me. Judy's rarely so straightforward with what she wants. But she had her reasons...and a moment later, I had them too.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet."


End file.
